


alone in navori

by levintiana



Category: League, League of Legends, Zed league of legends - Fandom
Genre: League of Legends - Freeform, Other, zed child runaway, zed childhood, zed runaway, zed runs away, zed runs away from home, zed's childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28445208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levintiana/pseuds/levintiana
Summary: eleven year old zed runs away from home and is  just an hour shy of the kinkou temple
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	alone in navori

A wintered landscape blanketed under a thin sheet of snow breathed heavily beneath the heaven's pink clouds, and the iced pathway dug on the hillside thawed close to the village gates. They remained open all through the day to greet the occasional travellers, while mounds of poppies and chrysanthemums had its petals dance in the breeze on the cliff side.

Small feet belonging to a boy of just eleven summers trudged through the frosted glaze spread over the ground in boots belonging to those of a man. He, himself, had hardly been taller than the few young willows steadily growing over the years, aligned with the path carved to the gateway.

The fur around the rim of his father's hunting boots had frozen over in the winter and was now rapidly thawing with every step he took towards the warmth, leaving his knees wet as cold fractals clung damply and uncomfortably to his skin. He had been running all day for a week, in a pair of his father's boots; the only thing that had been left of him. 

The soft glow of the village lanterns beckoned for him to follow and as he brought his hand up to clutch a strap of the tiny leather bag slung across his shoulder, he strode to greet the gates. Alone, starving, freezing, in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from his home village up north. 

He'd be long dead had he not been spared a loaf of bread by a kind passerby, nor had he not drank from the serene rivers surrounding the countryside. For that, he considered himself blessed.

Golden gleams from lanterns strung overhead between the two rows of houses brought light to the dim evening whilst he made night of the sun fading beyond the distant horizon. Small stalls and open food markets gave the people of the village time to occupy themselves. 

Mothers with their daughters sauntered around with their woven baskets in their slim-fitting evening gowns, and fathers with their sons laughed loudly in the crowd, rejoicing in old Ionian hymns native to Navori while all gathered in the square in celebration of the annual Winter Solstice. 

Some chatted amongst others, children laughed and played village games with each other, and some ceased going about their daily routines in their tracks altogether to steal a glance at this new boy.

A pale, visibly exhausted and lone son caught the attention of many, though barely any stepped in to converse. The air filled with the sweet scent with fresh fruit and baked bread while the hum of stringed and wood-winded instruments in the square reverberated around the mountainside. 

Following the stone pavement further into the soft glow, the boy pulled the small brown bag from his tired shoulders to clutch in his hand wrapped in bandages, dragging his aching feet as he walked. The towns-people passing him by shot him some unsure glances, although he was unaware of why. 

He glimpsed around at the unfamiliar faces. Some offered polite smiles, while others refused to even acknowledge him with a nod. Peering down into reflection of water rippling across the surface of a small bucket at his side, he had realized that none of these people had looked like him.

Or rather, he had looked nothing like them.

Distortedly staring back at him from the bucket was a thin-faced, under-fed boy with long and brittle, snow white hair along with silver eyelashes and brows. Dirt had kissed his cheek and collected in the cracks and crevices of his fingernails. He glanced down to the grass staining his bony knees, exposed to the harsh cold of approaching nightfall; the only warmth he had being the fur of the boots one too many sizes too big to possibly fit him.

Small cuts and grazes from wrestling with relentless thornbushes, briars and tree branches had adorned the pale skin on his bare arms, legs and shoulders. It was no surprise to him now as to why others had stared so judgingly. 

Nervously, now standing like a deer in headlights, he slung the bag over his shoulder again. Frozen in place, he bit his lip to stifle a possible cry that could rip through his throat upon seeing the difference between him and everyone around him.

A gentle breeze accompanied by a few flower petals gliding in its trail shifted the white hair in front of his face, reminding him of his individuality. With his bandaged hand he went to brush it behind his ear, when a young woman who looked to be no older than her mid twenties approached him. 

Her smile was warm, and he looked up to meet her light eyes. An obvious parent, courtesy of the toddler peering out from beside her as she grasped her mother's hand.

"Lovely evening for a walk, isn't it?" She said, lips tugged into a soft grin. "Are you just traversing by?" 

He cocked an eyebrow, mouth open to speak but hardly registered what was even asked of him. His eyes were locked onto the young girl clutching her mother's dress at her side, curiosity etched into the shy smile on her face. 

Straight, black hair down to her shoulders, which curled loosely at the ends, with dark brown eyes. Five, maybe six; a spitting image of his little sister.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded, wondering if they had even been speaking the same language.

She laughed quietly at his confusion, hitching her young daughter up onto her waist. 

"Are you walking through here? By yourself?" 

Stillness fell between both of them until he could muster a response viable enough.

"I think." Came a mumbled reply. He had never known how to talk with strangers, or anyone at all. There was a comfort in silence when he had kept to himself.

"Are you lost?"

"No." He blurted out immediately, without ever first consulting himself on the answer he'd give her.

"What's your name?" 

He hesitated, but he found it slipping through his tongue before he could stop or offer a fake name.

"Govos." He swallowed anxiously. He wanted to be home.

"Well, where are you off to at this time?" Her tone of voice had changed. Perhaps it was the motherly instinct to be concerned upon seeing an unfamiliar child wander alone late in the evening.

Another unbearable silence left him staring off into something invisible in the distance. His attention drew itself to the golden sun setting behind a field of pink and orange trees and flowers, much like the ones back home in Kéthé when the grass wasn't buried in inches of deep snow.

Tears almost stung his eyes, but held them down in front of the lady anyways. Instead he avoided eye contact with her. His face dropped and heart sank, with a look on him; so sad and insecure.

"I don't know."

Her eyebrows furrowed in worry. She looked away, and while supporting her daughter on her hip she pointed south-east with her other hand.

"The Kinkou Temple is that way, about an hour's walk. In Thanjuul. They'll help you, Govos," she spoke softly. Her eyes flickered down to his boots, to the scratches on him, and back to meet his eyes. Clearly a run away.

"I'd better let you be going," she smiled again, wistfully. "It's getting dark." 

A croak forced its way from his throat. "Okay." He nodded. 

And with that she had turned her back to make her way down the path. To her home, he presumed. The way she had pointed would lead him through the village. He staggered off, courtesy to the cuts slit on the back of his ankles from the boots. 

Although his fingers were stone cold and turning purple while his legs trembled, threatening to give out, he remained determined that he'd reach the monastery before the moon reached the highest point of the sky that night.


End file.
